Chapter 35: Chapter 35
“Clean up.”
A woman in her thirties with heavy powder approached Sa Do-cheol, whose hands and face were spattered with blood, and respectfully offered a cloth.
She was Geum Hwa-bin, rank three in the Slaughterhouse and proprietress of the Lust Flower Tower, known by her alias Color Moon.
Without so much as glancing at her, Sa Do-cheol wiped his hands perfunctorily and returned to his seat.
“But you were gonna do that to him anyway, Brother. You always stop me right when I’m about to step up. Thinking about it again, it really pisses me off.”
Sa Ho-jeong crossed his legs with a scowl. Sa Do-cheol glared at him like a beast and replied.
“Shut up and get ready.”
“Ready for what.”
“The deal with the Iron Horse Bandits is soon. If you want to collect the goods properly, prepare thoroughly.”
“Hah, those Iron Horse barbarian bastards? Can’t you go, Brother? They stink whenever I meet them. That shitty dirt smell. Makes me want to puke.”
“Sa Ho-jeong.”
“Hah, fuck. Fine. I got it. I’ll go. Just hand over the money and get the Soul-Befuddling Powder, right? Easy.”
Sa Ho-jeong grumbled and turned his head. Sa Do-cheol then looked at Ma I-sin and spoke.
“It seems things with Jang I-seo won’t end quietly.”
His tone carried no apology or request for understanding. This was a notification. He would cause trouble and needed cleanup afterward.
Ma I-sin smirked, scooped up a handful of Soul-Befuddling Powder from the table, tossed it into his mouth without breaking eye contact, and answered.
“Make it thorough.”
Permission granted. Sa Do-cheol gave a short nod.
Jang I-seo had already crossed the line. Losing two officers was unprecedented and humiliating. Such a man had to be crushed thoroughly as an example, or face meant nothing.
He looked at the proprietress, Color Moon, who stood before him smiling, and spoke.
“Mobilize everyone. I’m hunting personally.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Target: Wolha Village.”
Sa Do-cheol’s shocking order fell.
“The deadline is when every last one of them has burned to ash and vanished.”
Ma I-sin burst into laughter. Sa Ho-jeong whined about wanting to go too.
And Color Moon, Geum Hwa-bin, beamed and nodded.
“I’ll make preparations.”
Sa Do-cheol, master of the Slaughterhouse.
He had begun to move personally.
* * *
Completely unaware that the Slaughterhouse’s blade was tightening around their necks, Wolha Village erupted in celebration.
“Big Brooooother-!”
Yong-tae, boss of the Black Dragon Faction, came bounding over, waving both hands and jumping.
“We’ve been waiting!”
Mae-gi and the rest of the Black Dragon Faction followed with their greetings.
“Welcome back.”
And Chwi Hong-ran, greeting them warmly with a composed posture.
All of them had come to welcome back the returning pair.
The Seventh Young Master Mao, who had opened the doors of the Heavenly Demon Palace and returned in glory. And his adjutant, Jang I-seo.
Those two.
“Ahh, nothing like home. Look at that bamboo forest. The smell is exactly my smell. Yeah. I like it.”
Mao smiled as he looked at everyone gathered from the Seventh Small Palace to Moonlight Lake. He was already tall and striking, and with the Azure Dragon Blade slung over his shoulder, he looked magnificent.
Yong-tae and Mae-gi recognized it and exclaimed.
“Wait, Seventh Young Master. That. Is that possibly. That?”
“Yes. That. That’s it!”
Brats. Always needed to be spoon-fed to figure it out. Mao rubbed his philtrum with his index finger.
“Not ‘that’ or ‘this.’ A-zure Dra-gon Blade. This is the divine artifact bestowed directly by the Cult Leader, you bastards.”
“That’s right! The Azure Dragon Blade! The one you staked as collateral at the gambling den and lost completely!”
“…Mae-gi, you bastard. You were waiting just to say that.”
“Ah, busted.”
“Come here. I’ll show you why this is a divine artifact.”
“Argh!”
Mao and Mae-gi chased each other around like children, kicking up dust. Jang I-seo shook his head in exasperation.
Then he turned to Chwi Hong-ran and asked.
“Where’s the old man?”
Jegal Gwi-ryong was nowhere to be seen. Yong-tae laughed heartily and answered on her behalf.
“Well, he left without a word. Working with him, he’s no ordinary eccentric. The shouting, my god. At my age, I never thought I’d experience anything like it.”
Figured. He was no ordinary old man. But his work was undeniable.
“And the Seventh Small Palace?”
Jang I-seo’s eyes gleamed.
“You’ll be very surprised when you see it. But are you really going to live there?”
Yong-tae asked with concern. From his expression, the construction had gone well.
“Good work.”
Jang I-seo offered a brief greeting and walked toward the bamboo forest. Yong-tae flushed with embarrassment and spoke cautiously.
“It was tough, sure. But seeing the work take shape right before your eyes, it wasn’t a bad feeling. So I was thinking… maybe this is a good time for our boys to learn a trade from him.”
Jang I-seo smirked at Yong-tae’s question. The Black Dragon Faction had originally been nothing but thugs who picked fights.
But sweating for an honest day’s work wasn’t a bad thing. Knowing the value of fulfillment versus not knowing made a fundamental difference in quality of life.
“Let’s talk about it when there’s an opportunity.”
“Thank you, Big Brother!”
Yong-tae and his men grinned brightly and bowed. Jegal Gwi-ryong. A man with a vile temper but undeniable ability. Learning under him would be invaluable.
Walking on, they passed through the bamboo forest, and the renovated Seventh Small Palace finally came into view.
If before it had been a crumbling ruin, now…
“What is all this?”
Mao blinked three times and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
First, the walls were far thicker than before, and high enough that you’d need to count to three while looking up to see the top.
Time constraints had left it somewhat rough, but it now genuinely looked like a palace.
“Impressive! But there’s no gate.”
Mao was right. The entrance passage was narrow enough for only one or two people to pass through at a time, and no gate was visible.
“They won’t be able to get in easily, at least.”
Yong-tae said with a confident smile.
“Why wouldn’t they? Even a stray dog passing by could wander in.”
Mao snorted and walked forward. W-wait! Yong-tae and Mae-gi reached out in alarm, but too late.
Mao was a hot-headed good-for-nothing. Before anyone could stop him, he set foot in the passage.
Then.
FWISH! THWACK!
“Ugh!”
A black iron club shot out from the left wall without warning and smashed across his cheek.
Mao crumpled to the ground.
Too stunned and indignant, he looked up to see the iron club that had struck him slide back into the wall and vanish.
“What the hell ith thith?”
His cheek throbbed so badly he couldn’t even pronounce properly. Tears welled in his eyes.
“Well, that’s…”
Yong-tae slapped his forehead, rushed over, grabbed the back of Mao’s neck, and dragged him back.
Watching this, Jang I-seo smiled with satisfaction.
“They built it exactly right.”
How was any of this right?! Mao’s eyes bulged.
“What do you mean exactly right! Did you not just see that? I walked in and got the shit kicked out of me! Look at this. My cheek’s all swollen. Can’t you see? Are you an assassin?”
Jang I-seo shoved past the whining Mao beside him and stepped forward. Yong-tae coughed twice and explained.
“First, there are three new additions to the Seventh Small Palace. One is the entrance, the Gate of Fortune and Misfortune. With every step you take, iron bars shoot out from all over the place… ugh, even Master Jegal gave up and used a ladder to climb over the wall.”
“Fuck, then it’s not fortune and misfortune! It’s just unconditional beating! Nothing but misfortune!”
Listen to the end, at least. Patience-less bastard. Jang I-seo gestured for Yong-tae to continue.
“Yes. Second is the Path of One Hundred and Eight Afflictions. Third is the Room of No Rest… and those are very, very dangerous. Perhaps… life-threatening. Yes. We lost quite a few boys to them.”
“Hey, you shit! Why would I live in a place that dangerous!”
Why? Because that was how you’d get stronger fast.
Martial arts wasn’t simply about accumulating internal energy and memorizing forms. When opponents were at similar levels or even one step apart, victory hinged on honed instincts.
Even an absolute master could die in an instant of carelessness in the Gangho. That was simply the nature of this world.
And Mao was the greenest of greenhorns, with no combat instincts to speak of, who’d never properly trained in martial arts.
For him to catch up to his siblings, half-measures wouldn’t even come close. He needed something far more visceral.
That was why Jang I-seo had prepared this reconstruction of the Seventh Small Palace.
Weaving threat into daily life.
Exactly as he’d learned from the Hidden Pavilion.
“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”
Jang I-seo stared hard.
“If you want to survive the next month, you will endure this place by whatever means necessary.”
“Hey, Jang I-seo…!”
“You must. Endure.”
Jang I-seo turned his head slowly.
One month remained.
They had to survive until then somehow.
The Seventh Young Master. And himself.
*
After finishing their greetings at the Seventh Small Palace, Yong-tae and Mae-gi returned to their posts.
“We’ll be going now.”
“Didn’t even get to rest properly.”
With the two and the Black Dragon Faction gone, the surroundings grew quieter. Jang I-seo exhaled a shallow breath. Finally felt like coming home.
Chwi Hong-ran, who had been watching from beside him, spoke cautiously.
“Has something happened? You don’t look well.”
She’d known Jang I-seo for years. But today, his expression was oddly dark. He’d always been nihilistic, yes, but with a playful glint in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. Now he looked like a demonic cultivator brimming with killing intent.
“…It’s nothing.”
“Nothing, my foot. He’s going to die in a month.”
“What?”
As Chwi Hong-ran gasped, Mao pouted and grumbled.
“Father gave me an impossible assignment. Told me to dodge his finger wind. Does that make any sense? How am I supposed to do that!”
“Ah…”
Chwi Hong-ran covered her lips with her pale hand and let out a sigh of dismay. So that had happened. But…
‘The Master’s expression doesn’t seem to be about that. How should I put it… he looks frightening.’
She was right.
In truth, Jang I-seo’s internal state was far more serious than it appeared.
The Heavenly Demon’s internal energy was slowly seeping into even his mind.
Why was demonic aura called demonic aura?
Because it was a sinister energy that defied natural order and ravaged the body.
And what Jang I-seo carried was the demonic aura of the Heavenly Demon, a man who could be called the Absolute Supremacy.
It was leaking out through the holes in his dantian like water through a sieve. Madness was inevitable.